


You Can Keep Me Warm

by iliveinfantasies



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Angry!Johanna, District 7, F/F, Hunger Games, Joniss - Freeform, Post-Mockingjay, katanna
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-05-02 14:13:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5251181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iliveinfantasies/pseuds/iliveinfantasies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Johanna is afraid of thunderstorms, and really fucking angry about it. Katniss sees. Post-Mockingjay. Katniss POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can Keep Me Warm

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Swearing, lots of swearing. I mean, come on, Johanna swears, especially when there’s rain.
> 
> I do not own any of these characters or this world, etc. Post-Mockingjay, Katniss POV.
> 
> I love and appreciate comments AND criticisms equally, so please feel free! They are encouraged!

_This is no place for a girl on fire_. I had told Johanna once, back in 13, about that particular thought that I had when we’d first been let into the arena. She had smirked, the corner of her lip twitching familiarly, and barked out a bitter laugh. She had hauled her skin-and-bone body up into a defiant stance that was her best imitation of her old self. She then told me with no small amount of malice that the water used in 13 had no voltage, so there was simply no way that she could possibly enjoy it, either. Later, after I had walked into the bathroom to see her attempting to bathe herself with a wet rag, she had sneered at me in sweet sarcasm. “See, brainless? You don’t have to worry about your precious flame extinguishing anymore.” What a pair we had made: a girl on fire, a girl afraid of water, and a world about to burn. When I think about it now, though it hurts to, just a little, I believe that it was best that we hadn’t become lovers back then. Had we actually at that point come together, mouths clashing like flint in showers of sparks and her bones brittle like wood, our heat would have set the world ablaze.

 “ _Fuck.”_

  The sharp exclamation draws me out of my thoughts and back into my now. I still have a habit of slipping into my head, after having secluded myself for so long after Prim died. Johanna seed me look up and smiles, sort of—it’s her water-smile, the only kind of smile she can manage when it rains. It’s a frayed sort of half-smile, dull and patchworked, with pain poking out around the edges. Then I see her face fall, tensed up again as she peers out the window to see drops battering the glass panes.

The day after I had appeared on Johanna’s doorstep in District 7, I had learned that she was still desperately afraid of rain. I had also learned that she was very bitter about it. So bitter, in fact, that on that second day after I moved in she had spent a good ten minutes pacing the kitchen floor and cursing the rain loudly and animatedly before I was able to shock her into stopping by kissing her again. Good thing the kisses were still a new phenomenon, or I suspect that she would have been there through the entire storm, swearing loudly and shaking with fear and frustration. As it is now, I can see that small bubble of angry-fear working its way up through her throat as she looks at the slowly progressing storm.

“ _Fuck,_ ” she hisses again, scowling. “ _FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU.”_

 I put a hand softly on her shoulder, interrupting her mantra, which had been steadily increasing in volume. She spins around, hands on her thin hips, and gives me an even bigger scowl, which I hadn’t known to be possible.

 “ _What_ , brainless?”

I don’t say anything, just wrap my arms around her like she used to do for me in 13 when I had nightmares, and lay my head down on her shoulder. I feel her tense up for a moment, and can nearly feel the snide comment about to roll off of her tongue, before she finally lets her body relax with a  _whoosh_  of air.

“You’re fire. Make it evaporate,” she demands, a quietly harsh whisper in my ear, as though saying it quietly would deem the words unnecessary. It’s the sort of whisper that makes me want to cry, but instead I laugh, sharply, the sort of laugh that sounds far more like it should have come out of her than me.

“Johanna, that fire was put out a long time ago.” I feel her pull back slightly, and I hate myself for the words instantly.

 _No,_  she shakes her head slightly, her eyes suddenly ablaze with their own fire, slowly simmering coal. She cups her hands around my cheeks, nails biting just a little too hard into my skin. Her eyes search mine for a second, but I find hers unreadable, taking on a very non-Johanna vulnerability.

“You have  _always_  been on fire, brainless.” She lets out a soft chuckle, a sound clouded in memory. “When I saw you on TV? When I watched you volunteer, when I saw you in those games and on that stage and in those parades and in that goddamn elevator,”—and here she smirks, for just a second, as I feel my cheeks ignite—“you were always blazing. I always knew, knew you were always alive. And what the Capitol did, the kind of fucking bullshit they always do? Fuck them. I will never let your flame die.” She says this last sentence very softly, as though the words are made of meringue, liable to melt on her tongue. She swallows, hard. “You burn me, and,” she falters. We still have a hard time with talking. We might always have a hard time with talking, after having survived in silence for so long. “And I love you for it.”

I feel my stomach clench and then relax several times over. We’re still getting used to being allowed to love, and those words have never been breathed between us before. I chance a peek at her face, and see that she’s biting her lip, an irritated sort of insecurity settling into her eyes. I’m suddenly very glad that my arms are still wrapped around her middle. She sees me watching, and with a crick of her mouth, she presses her lips hard to mine. Teeth nipping, fingers frantically weaving themselves through my hair to get caught on my braid, her motions never cease. My breath catches, and I pull her closer, wishing she could melt into my chest, wanting more than ever to protect her from the rain, from what the Capitol had made of her.

When she pulls away again, her eyes have hardened into a sort of steel, flat determination. She looks up toward the ceiling, the sound of rain on the roof, running a hand through her own short, choppy locks. I can barely make out her next words, as she aims them upward, deadly quiet.

“I _will_  relight that spark. Just you fucking  _watch_.” It’s as though she’s speaking directly to the rain, sassing it, daring it, pointing her middle finger once again at the Capitol for having messed with our minds  _this_  damn much. I feel my face flush, and I open my mouth to speak, not quite sure what I’m going to say.

“Johanna—“ I begin, but I’m interrupted by a crash of thunder and another loud “ _Fuck.”  
_ I grip her just a little tighter.

 _“OH, FUCK,”_ she says again, even more loudly this time, her face twisting into a glower.

“Johanna—” I try again, but she still cuts me off.

“ _Dammit_ , brainless” she says, and I look at her, surprised. What, me? “You got me so distracted with this sentimental shit that I forgot I had left all of the wood I chopped outside. Now I’ll never start a fucking fire.”

Her face was is annoyed, so much like her old self in that moment, that I almost start laughing. Then I see her expression change again, this time into a wolf-like grin. Uh oh. Her eyes flicker dangerously, and she begins to press me abruptly backward until we hit the wall. She keeps moving forward, pressing her stomach into my hips, and runs her tongue lightly up my jawline until her mouth is level with my ear. I feel a shiver work its way down, starting at my ear and making its way through all of my bones. Her grin grows even bigger, and she whispers softly into my ear.

“Since it’s your fault for distracting me, girl on fire, you can keep me warm.”


End file.
